


demon with desire

by fableknot



Category: Angel with Attitude - Michelle Rowen
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fableknot/pseuds/fableknot
Summary: The road to paradise is a bumpy one.





	1. Chapter 1

Niagara Falls  
December 1956

By the time Alexa left the Underworld, it was past midnight. The man she was supposed to meet had already arrived a half hour prior, after having taken a tumble down the falls. It was astonishing that he survived—she definitely would have appreciated having one less assignment in her ever-growing pile—but Heaven would never be so cruel as to kill one of its angels. Former angel, to be precise.

She hid behind the trees of the park, watching the shuddering, naked man stumble his way along the side of the fence that separated them from the roaring stream. She dared a peek behind the branches, curious to see what he looked like, while recalling the exact moment they had given her the assignment. _Angel, coming in hot,_ they had said.

They were certainly right.

Between the spill of snow and moonlight, she could tell that he was tall, broad-shouldered, with a messy head of dark brown hair. His eyes were looking away from her, yet she could just barely make out the green that flashed in its depths. Her gaze dipped lower and lower, until she had to bite her lip.

Alexa had immediately fallen in love.

 _Fine_ , she admitted. Lust.

Alexa was a demon, the kind that specialized in tempting humans, angels or what-have-yous into willingly giving their souls. Not only was she a demon, but she was one of Lucifer's best. Though her colleagues may call her fickle or impatient, no one could deny she was damn good at her job. Tonight's assignment would be no exception.

She waved a hand above her head, putting on the glamour she prepared for the night. It wasn't that she was embarrassed her looks—on the contrary, she was sinfully prideful of them—but it was practically winter, and a sleeveless dress wasn't going to cut it this time of year. If her story was to be believed, she had to play the part.

A grey swing coat materialized over her outfit, tied together by a belt that accented the waist and flared her coat at the bottom. Two matching gloves and a pillbox hat followed. Although she would have liked to show off some more skin, it would probably fare better with his _delicate_ sensibilities.

Squaring her shoulders, Alexa stepped out of the trees and made a cry of surprise. "My goodness," she said. "Are you alright?"

He turned to her, and she was struck by the seriousness of his gaze. A myriad of emotions pranced in front of her, from confusion to relief, before finally settling on wariness.

She ran up to him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. "You're deathly pale," she exclaimed, "and you're shivering." She let her hand fall down to his upper arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Let's get you inside."

"Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Alexa," she answered. "I have a house not too far from here. We have no time to waste."

He looked around. "Where am I? What is this place?"

She quirked a brow, as any other person would. "Why, you're in Niagara Falls."

He withdrew from her grasp, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm supposed to be in Heaven."

Her lips thinned. "Hmm, I see that the cold has made you delirious, too," she said, inching back towards him. "It's alright, sir. You're safe now."

Her tone had grown more soothing, aided by the compulsion in her power. He swayed toward her, the pupils in his eyes dilating, but flinched away. "I know what you are," he said with disdain. "They told me about you. You're a demon."

She stifled a laugh. "A demon?"

He nodded. "A Tempter."

"Really, sir," she began. "There's no need to be defensive. I'm only trying to help you."

He kept his distance, while she followed him in a circle. "Do not touch me, demon."

She bristled. "I'm not a demon."

"Demon," he repeated. "You can't fool me." He pointed an accusing finger. "I bet you're seducing me right now."

She rolled her eyes. "I said I'm not a—" She groaned. "Oh, for Heaven's sake." She snapped her fingers, revealing the red sheath dress beneath her glamour. Her black hair unfastened itself from the bun on her head. "There," she huffed. "Ya happy?"

She had planned for a slow seduction. Perhaps she would have posed as an innocent, kind-hearted woman who could have nursed him back to health and offered him her home. She might have orchestrated for them to slip into some compromising positions here and there, until he would eventually fall for her charms. Time for Plan B.

He sneered. "What now? Are you going to wave a blanket in front of my face, only to say I can't have it until I join you?"

Yes. Yes, she was. But now that he put it that way, she didn't feel like going through with it.

She crossed her arms. Fallen angels were supposed to be desperate. Dim-witted. The earlier their Tempters came, the better it was. Yet this one had already shored up his defenses, and he was clearly well-versed in her kind. _Occasionally_ , these things happened.

Maybe she should have given him a day, she thought. Let him realize the hopeless of his situation and just how horrible Earth was. All his fond memories of Heaven would be ripped from his grasp. He would have flung himself at her feet, begging to be whisked away.

She canted her head as she noticed something stick out from his clenched fist. "What's that in your hand?"

He looked at it as if he didn't know either. In fact, it seemed to be the first time he noticed something was there. "How..." He trailed off as he held it in the air. It was a wallet.

"Well?" she said, looking at him expectantly. "Aren't you going to open it?"

He scowled at her before pulling out a card. "Paradise Inn?" he read aloud.

"That's nearby," she mused to herself, but covered her mouth at her mistake.

His grip on the card visibly tightened. "Take me."

"To hell?" She pulled up her nonexistent sleeves. "If you insist."

"To the inn," he said through his teeth.

She smirked. "Or what?"

He came toward her menacingly, until her back was up against a tree. She could see the water that came down his hair in rivulets, snaking across the smooth muscles underneath his skin, enticing her to give them a lick. She sucked in a breath, feeling the pressure of his very naked waist press against hers, though she was certain he hadn't known the effect he was having on her. Fallen or not, angels were far too innocent.

"Or I'll…" He faltered. "I'll…" The weather was starting to get to him. He wobbled on his feet, and she moved to steady him, but he held up a hand.

Stubborn fool. It wouldn't do for her assignment to die on the same day he was reborn. She plucked off the scarf she had around her elbows. Since he seemed to be repulsed by her touch, she threw it on his head. "Let's get you out of the cold, at least."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because their story was begging to be told. | This chapter was last updated on April 20, 2018.


	2. Chapter 2

December 1964

Alexa tied the lacing of the one-piece lingerie around her chest. She had chosen to go with black tonight, to match the image of the evil temptress her fallen angel envisioned for her. If he was going to insist on it, why not fulfill the fantasy for once?

It had been some time since her dear Bartholomew took over ownership of the Paradise Inn. Perhaps it gave him something to do while he searched for a method to revert to what he once was. Alexa had confronted him about it, but she unfortunately had done so during a period where he would ignore her for weeks on end. She had long since switched over to using aggressive tactics with her assignment, since she could find no other way to deal with such a thick-headed man.

Once Alexa was wholly satisfied with her appearance, she transported into his room. It was dark, and he was sitting in a table by the balcony, a drink in hand. She stretched languidly across his bed, hoping to catch his attention.

"Heya, handsome," she said with a wink.

He hadn't deigned to give her a glance. "Don't call me that."

"Darling?" she offered.

"Not that either."

"Baby?"

"No."

She scrunched her nose. "Barty?" Bartholomew always sounded like a mouthful, anyway.

"Don't you dare."

She wore a pout.

His back was still turned to her, his impressive frame silhouetted by stars. She honed in on the way his head was bent and the way his shoulders were slightly slumped. He looked more sullen than usual.

She walked over to his side. "What's wrong?" She raised a hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders but stopped herself, remembering all the times he shrugged her off.

She looked at the table, surprised to find that he hadn't been taking just any drink, but an alcoholic one. Bottles of various sorts were tucked in a box by his feet.

She gasped. "You've been drinking."

He brought the glass to his lips, casually inspecting the rim. "Maybe."

She sank down to the chair beside him. "After practicing abstinence for all this time." She shook her head dramatically. "Have you given up?"

"No. I just..." His expression clouded. "I needed a break."

She stared at him, suddenly seeing the shadows under his eyes and the stubble beneath his chin. She had been so busy with another assignment these last few weeks that she hadn't noticed.

"I see," she said simply. She perked up again, propping her head in her hands. "Well, I guess you're going to need a drinking partner." She wagged her eyebrows.

Finally, he looked at her, his green eyes glowing with a fire so unlike her own. His lips twitched once, twice, before erupting into a rancious laugh. She wanted to hear it more often.

"I guess I do," he replied, surprising her again.

Then he slid her a glass.

—

Alexa slammed her hand on the table. "And if that's the case," she said, "you probably shouldn't check the carriage."

Barlow howled with laughter, two giant splotches of red evident on his cheeks. They had been exchanging stories for five hours now, although most of it was composed of her antics on Earth.

She drained the reminder of her glass, liquid fire burning down her throat. Her face was flushed as well, as if she'd been running a mile.

"You've had a rather long life," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. She'd never seen him like this, so wild and unrestrained. He had always thrown up a wall whenever she was around. What would have it been like, she wondered, if he wasn't her assignment, if they were just two friends?

"Have you ever had any regrets?" he asked. It was like a slap of cold water.

She looked sideways at him. "Once," she said. "Maybe."

It had been a little more than a hundred-and-fifty years ago, when she was tasked with tempting a human by the name of Nathaniel. Their kind was experiencing a shortage, and they were desperate for any being that had power in their hand or darkness in their heart.

She remembered creeping up the stairs of a tower, dressed as a scullery maid. Her assignment was an important one, they told her. Exceptionally fiendish enough to require her level of expertise in particular. If she was successful, a promotion might have even been in the works.

She hadn't expected a small boy to be waiting for her.

He was tucked in the folds of bed that was much too big for him, ridden with disease. Consumption, was it? He was as white as a sheet, his face tear-stained from the pain. Her heart wrenched with a tug of sympathy, but she tucked the feeling away, focused on the task at hand.

She knelt at his bedside and took his hand. His pulse was weak against her thumb, and she knew he wasn't long for this world. "Are you Nathaniel?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I can spare you from this." There had been no shedding of skin, no use of compulsion. She had only spoken the truth. "All you have to do is say the word."

He did, and she was punished for it severely. It turned out that her assignment had been his father. An honest mistake, but not in the eyes of the head office. It was her fault, they explained, for skimming the file.

"I'm glad the higher-ups have forgiven me though," Alexa finished, "or I might not have ever met you." The strangest look entered his eyes then, and she realized the significance of what she said.

"A fallen angel is a big catch compared to a human," she added. "I might be getting that promotion after all." She forced a laugh, while mentally cursing herself for not using the opportunity to seduce him. It would have made for a great line. Damn the drink for making her woozy.

"Why didn't you come?" he asked.

She reached over for another bottle but froze midair. "What?"

"You disappeared for a month," he said quietly. "I thought that you had given up, or been re-assigned, or that something happened. I thought," he swallowed, "I thought I lost you."

She looked at him, drawn by the misery in his voice and the tenderness in his gaze. She wanted to touch him, to wrap herself in their intensity and kiss them away. Whether it was because of that, the alcohol, or some ulterior motive, she decided to come around the table.

"Shh, it's alright," she said, twining her arms around his neck. For once, he didn't flinch from her touch. "I'm here now."

His eyes were strikingly clear, in way that was both beautiful and discomforting. She drifted her gaze down so that she could alleviate herself of them, but she became fascinated by the fullness of his mouth. Every fork and crevice persuaded her to slant her lips over his.

So she did.

It was nothing like she thought a kiss from an angel entailed. He was neither gentle nor sweet. His tongue thrust in her mouth, tasting of the liquor they drank. She closed her eyes instinctively, surrendering herself to the sensation. His hands were running through the tangles of her hair, pressing her to him until it became difficult to breathe.

She settled into the cocoon of his embrace, her legs steadily getting weaker, and he carried them to the bed. She giggled as he threw off his shirt and moved to cover himself over her. Her delicate hands were savoring the curve of his back, the muscles of his shoulders, when he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder.

"Funny," he said. "No one else knows who I am. Is that why I..."

"Stop," she interrupted. "No more talking."

He lowered his head, brushing his lips down the slim column of her neck. A wash of cool air replaced where her clothes had been. She arched back as he cupped her breast, grazing his thumb repeatedly over her nipple before exchanging it with his tongue. Her nails dug deeper into his skin, a sign of her approval. With a growl, he delved his hand between the inner triangle of her thighs. All she could make were inarticulate pleas for release, her hips rolling with need.

After a while, they twisted so that she was lying on top. "Why do you insist on returning to Heaven?" she said, in a half-whisper. She ran her nails over the taut muscles of his abdomen, and he shivered.

"There's so much more you're missing," she contended. "If you die here, there's no guarantee you'll go back." She peppered feather-light kisses along his chest, while her fingers danced along his zipper. "Whatever sin you committed may be too much."

She rose so that she could see his face. She didn't want him to be upset, to languish the remainder of his life on this nightmarish plane. Wherever he went afterward, she could never be with him, unless he willingly gave her his soul.

"Please," she said against his lips. "Just come with me."

His grip on her tightened and, with immeasurable care, he placed her beside him. She threw an arm over her eyes in defeat, knowing exactly what he would say.

"I can't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut? From me? What? | This chapter was last updated on January 7, 2018.


	3. Chapter 3

June 1979

Alexa leaned over the counter of the bar, crooking a finger inside the waistband of her bell-bottoms. Old cushions were spread out around the dance floor, making it seem more like a living room than a nightclub. Bright lights pulsed from the giant ball that hung above the masses.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, tapping the shoulder of the most arresting brunette.

"Alexa," Barlow deadpanned. "What a surprise."

She swiped the drink from his hand. "I was about to ask if you were enjoying yourself without me, but it seems obvious that you're not." She took a swig. "I thought you abhorred the glamour and glitz of disco. Something about these places being too risqué?"

"I'm here at the request of a friend," he said, clearly regretting his decision on the matter.

She wondered how anyone could convince Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud to come out of that strange motel of his, but perhaps she should be taking notes. "Well, since you're already here," she put the glass down and twirled, "care to join me for some line dancing?"

His irresistible eyes were steady on hers. "I have a better idea." 

She made a sound of surprise when he took her hand and lead her across the dance floor. Before she could question him, he swung around, and her knees nearly buckled at the heated look in his gaze. Was he drunk again? What other explanation could there be for his behavior? Yet he moved purposefully, gracefully, through the throng of couples, and she let herself be swept along with him.

Alexa was used to being the life of the party, yet she could feel everyone’s attention rapt on the two of them. The tantalizing scent of smoke and cologne mingled in the air. They had settled into their own rhythm, swaying from side-to-side. Faintly, she could hear the beginnings of a new song blaring over the speakers.

_She sits alone waiting for suggestions_  
_He's so nervous avoiding all the questions..._

A shiver passed where his hand met her waist. It was hard for her to keep her eye on the prize when he was so close. "Are you really Barty?" she asked with a dreamy tilt of her head.

"I would never deceive a lady," he replied.

She smiled up at him. "No longer an evil temptress, am I?"

He spun her into a turn, presumably so that she couldn't study his expression. "I still have my manners."

"Such an angel," she teased as they danced together to the very last hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another moment I had in mind. Might expand upon it in the future. | This chapter was last updated on March 15, 2018.


	4. Chapter 4

December 2006

Alexa scaled the walls of a pit, sweat soaking in her skin and fire spewing at her back. She was burning, but she commanded her body to continue. The flames crackled, whipping at her with outstretched claws, and her nerves exploded with unimaginable pain. By the time she emerged from the ledge, her hands were blackened with soot and burns.

But she was smiling, for the Key to Heaven was in her possession. That, and her fiftieth anniversary with a certain someone was fast approaching.

Barlow was an old man, by now. An old man who didn't have much time. To make matters worse, a terrible disease was eating away at him, bubbling fluid in his lungs and mutating his tissues. He refused to see any doctors, choosing to have his peace at home.

As a result, Alexa's tactics had gotten even more aggressive. Oh, they bickered about it, like an old married couple, but he outright refused her advances. It had become second nature to him.

She held the key to her chest. If he wouldn't come with her, she had to at least guarantee his happiness.

She had followed the stories, revisiting the places Lucifer frequented, building up to the exact moment he lost the key. She hadn't seen Barlow for months. Although she often left him for other assignments, this was different. She wondered if he was saddened or relieved.

Whatever the case, she would return to him. All she needed now were the materials for a party.

—

Alexa arrived at the motel in a pillar of fire and smoke. "I'm back," she announced, but Barlow wasn't there to greet her. She crossed her arms petulantly, until she realized that the shower was running. For a split-second, she debated between joining him or preparing for his surprise. The former won out.

She set aside the chocolate cake on the table next to his recliner before inflating a shiny red balloon into existence. He would appreciate a simple decoration more than her throwing together something grand. With a flick of her wrist, the radio switched to a station that played the music of their past.

The knob to the bathroom turned. She smoothed a hand over her tight black skirt before reaching down to adjust the straps of her four-inch heels. There was not a single indication of her harrowing adventure.

The door opened, and Barlow stepped out. He paused to take in the red balloon and the cake in her hand, before meeting her eyes. "Alexa," he said coolly.

A nagging sense of disappointment came over her at his lackluster response. Still, she wouldn't be deterred. "Good morning, baby. Guess what day it is?"

He sat down on the recliner. "What?"

She spun around. "Our anniversary."

He sighed, emphasizing the deep-set lines that cut across his face. Black-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. His eyes weren't completely shut, but she could no longer delight in its swirling greens and blues.

"I'm not interested," he said.

She sat on the armrest of his chair. "Don't be like that." She tangled her fingers in his thick, white hair. These days, he had little concern with her touch. "Is it because I've been gone for so long? Look, I have a special gift."

He snorted. "What is it this time?"

"It took me several months to find it, but ta-da!" She brought her hand down from his hair, allowing a small, golden key to materialize in her palm. "The Key to Heaven."

He merely stared. "You're joking."

She shrugged, like it was no big deal. "See for yourself." She pressed the key in his grasp. His eyebrows flew up as its power went through him. "I don't have to explain, do I?"

He rose the key in front of his glasses, examining it with awe. "Alexa," he said. "I don't know what to say."

She grinned. "How about you promise me your soul in return?"

He gave her a look.

She pouted. "Alright." A mischievous smile stole across her lips. "Then how about I just settle for you?" She flung away her blouse and slid onto his lap.

"Alexa." He sounded as though he were exasperated with her, but she had known him long enough to recognize the amused twinkle in his eye. "Can I have a slice of cake first?"

She was getting the distinct feeling that it was more of an excuse to get her off of him, but she obliged.

She had leaned over to grab the cake when the radio began to play "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" by Rod Stewart. Hazy summer nights floated to the surface of her mind. "Oh, I love this song," she said as she stood up. She had left her blouse lying on the floor. "Do you remember when—"

The beaded curtain that separated the office from the living area was pushed aside. A blonde-headed woman, no more than her twenties, stood at the threshold. A human?

No one moved, until the woman averted her gaze. "Awkward. Sorry, I didn't know you had company."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of them can be pretty stubborn. | This chapter was last updated on December 8, 2017.


	5. Chapter 5

Valerie Grace.

Alexa chuckled, shaking her head. Did Barlow intend to keep her a secret? She was another fallen angel, another special case. Alexa would have liked to take a crack at that assignment, but Nathaniel had already taken her. It was supposedly his last chance, or so she heard. Really, if it weren't for the fact that he had a soft heart, he would have made for an excellent Tempter.

Her thoughts returned to Valerie. Was Barlow drawn to her because she was one of the fallen? He had such a soft spot for poor, pathetic creatures. Maybe he was priming her to be the next successor to the motel.

Her face fell at the reminder of his impending death. She held up her hand, tracing where she held the key. Had he left already? Although she had practically given him what he wanted, he was always hesitant to use something of hers. Perhaps Valerie managed to convinced him. Yet, deep down, Alexa knew he remained. Was he waiting to say goodbye?

She decided to see him again and transported back into his room. "Barty, are you still here? Your favorite demon has come to visit—"

Her blood turned cold at the sight that awaited her. Julian leaned against the recliner, holding a book in hand. He was blonde, blue-eyed, and handsome, but a demon just as herself. He was flipping casually through the pages when he looked at her, an icy smile spreading across his face.

"You," she said. Unbridled rage curled her fingers, but there was also a thread of fear.

"Alexa." He put down the book. "How have you been?"

She examined the room, although she was afraid of what she might find. Light shone beneath the door to the bathroom, and she heard a running faucet. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

He took a step towards her. "I think you know why. Does the Key to Heaven ring a bell?"

She was glued to the spot, her heart beating erratically against the confines of her chest.

"You might want to start talking," he said, "or would you prefer that I speak to your little boyfriend?"

Her eyes bore into him with unabashed hatred. "If you so much as touch him..."

"You'll what? Vanquish me?" He flashed his teeth. "Sorry, hon, but it's not me who will be vanquished."

Her stomach lurched. She was no match for Lucifer's son, but she had to act, or she was going to die. Drawing back her hand, she summoned a ball of fire and flung it at his face. He caught it effortlessly and threw it right back.

Her back hit the carpeted floor, while he leered over her. "Where is the key?" He slammed on her wrist. She cried out, tears welling in her eyes.

"You'll never get it out of me."

He studied her for a long moment. His voice was cool and sure as he said, "I already have." He lessened the weight on his foot, and she scrambled away, nursing her wrist.

"You gave it to him, didn't you?" he said. "Naughty girl. Were you trying to save him?"

She backed up against the balcony, searching for escape.

"I bet you thought you outsmarted my father," he went on. "Oh, you were good, for getting as far as you had. His bias towards you isn't exactly unwarranted. Sadly, I can't let anyone smear the family reputation."

He flinched as he felt a glob of something wet make contact with his cheek. She had spat on him. "Go to hell," she snarled before trouncing him with an even bigger fireball. He crumpled to the floor, wrestling with it like it was a wild animal.

She hurried over to the dresser, knowing where Barlow would hide the key. If she rwanted him to be safe, Julian's attention had to be on her.

She ran to the beaded curtain, holding onto the key as if she held Barlow's life in her hands.

She had no more energy to conjure a door to the Underworld, but she forced herself to keep going. If she could avoid Julian long enough, she might be able to—

A gasp wrung from her lips when she nearly collided with someone in the office. Valerie was looking at her, her mouth open in surprise.

"Valerie!" she said, her chest heaving. "Please. You have to help. You can't let him have it."

"Have what?"

She showed her the key. There was no time to explain, but somehow she had to get Valerie to trust her. Alexa stared into her eyes, hoping that she would see her desperation, and shook her head.

"This is all my fault. All of it." She should have known someone would be watching the pit. She should have known that the key would detected once it entered the mortal plane. "Protect Barty. Help him. Do whatever it takes to—"

Flames licked at her feet. She held the urge to scream as it peeled the skin off her bones.

"No." She turned around to see Julian had disentangled himself from the fireball. He smirked at her, his eyes glittering in triumph. "You backstabbing bastard. I won't let you do this—"

He snapped his fingers, hasting the flames, and she could hold it no longer. She threw back her head, pure agony lacerating her very being, before her screams descended into silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end isn't the end. | This chapter was last updated on December 8, 2017.


	6. Chapter 6

Alexa floated in a pool of darkness, in a place that was neither heaven nor hell. She sold her soul as a human, and demons weren't granted a second death. It should come as no surprise that she would end up here, in an endless abyss. She was amazed that she was aware of her formless state at all. Her consciousness should have shattered into oblivion.

What did it matter, anyhow? The Key to Heaven was in Valerie's hands. Alexa had given it all that she could. She could only hope they’d gotten away from Julian, fleeing to a place neither him nor Alexa will ever reach.

She drifted aimlessly, for a time that could have spanned a second to eternity, until light, blinding and fearsome, severed through the darkness. In that light, she saw two massive wings. They encompassed her, soothing her in a familiar warmth. She looked down at herself, finding that her body had assembled back together.

Her hands reached up, feeling the feathers that caressed her skin, before they skimmed the jaw of a man. "Barty?" she whispered.

She saw his smile in the light, and she embraced him, sobbing into his chest. "Is this a dream?" she said, still not quite believing that he was here. With her. "You came for me. Why?"

He clutched her tight, reassuring her of his presence, as he spoke into her hair. "Because I love you, and I've come to take you away."

"Oh, Barty," she said, wiping away her tears. "Why didn't you come sooner?"

His expression was remorseful. "Believe me, I wanted to, but there were so many things that needed to be put to rest. I had to make sure nothing could go wrong."

"All for a sinner like me?" she said teasingly.

"Alexa," he said, his eyes serious. "Don't you realize what you've done? You've committed a selfless act. You sacrificed your life to save someone else's. For that, Lucifer has granted you pardon from his prison."

She wanted to say that giving him the key wasn't really that selfless, but she refused to spoil the moment. "What now?" she asked. "Are you going to wave the prospect of Heaven in front of my face, only to wait until I sell you my soul?" Her slow seduction of him hadn't succeeded, but his was about to, if that was the price for her to leave.

His chest rumbled with laughter, and she held fast as he spun them around. His soft lips pressed to her forehead as the light banished the remaining strands of darkness.

"Let's get you out of the cold, at least."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I refuse to believe Alexa did not go to heaven and spend the rest of eternity with Bartholomew. | This chapter was last updated on March 25, 2018.


End file.
